


And Be A Villain

by Evening_Bat



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Denarian Saal, Gen, Nova Prime, Rhomann Dey - Freeform, villain AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 18:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2160105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evening_Bat/pseuds/Evening_Bat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were some of the most dangerous criminals in the galaxy.  And now they were working together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Be A Villain

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so. This is...really not my usual fare. It’s a dark alternate universe and be warned: None of our heroes are nice people in this version of events.
> 
> Response to a prompt over on guardian_kink on livejournal and slightly cleaned up from the version I posted there. I couldn’t get the idea out of my head until I wrote it.

“Nova Prime.” Saal straightened to attention at her approach, peripherally aware of Technician Ayenn and Corpsman Dey mirroring his action.

She gestured them all to ease, her focus on the shifting projections hovering above the console. “We’re sure it was them?”

“Certain, ma’am. We’ve confirmed it.” Unfortunately. He’d rather hoped they’d prove the initial report false.

“Damn,” she said, barely an exhalation of dismay, before shaking her head. “You have the files I asked for?”

Technician Ayenn bobbed her head in a short nod. “Ready, ma’am.”

“Show me.”

The other projections faded as an enlarged criminal activity report flickered into view. The rotating central image was of a broad, muscular man, red markings spreading like flame over his blue skin. Identifying details flashed along the right side of the screen, as the breakdown of his criminal record scrolled down the left.

“The Destroyer,” Saal began. “Real name unknown, though reports say that he sometimes responds to Drax. Species unknown, but we’ve been able to confirm that he’s from one of the worlds that fell under the Kree’s last purity campaign. He’s undergone extensive enhancement, we think as part of an attempt at fighting back the Kree advance, including treatments to toughen his skin and increase his regenerative capabilities.”

A cluster of smaller projections lit up around the primary image. Vids played on each display: a couple of prison security feeds, surveillance footage from half a dozen different worlds, shaky recordings from personal comm devices. All of them showed bloody mayhem. The Destroyer liked to use his hands to kill, equally deadly with a fist or a knife.

“Mass murderer is an understatement. He’s wanted on over twenty planets for multiple deaths, including four teams of Nova Corpsmen, and that’s only the deaths that were reported. A slight majority of his victims have been Kree, but he doesn’t limit himself when a fight breaks out. There are rumours that his own family were his first victims. He’s extremely aggressive, almost impossible to contain, and currently at large.”

The auxiliary screens darkened as a new record appeared. A green-skinned female scowled out of the image, light glinting from the edges of the cybernetics set just under the skin of her face.

“Gamora,” said Saal. “Sole survivor of the Zehoberi, and one of Thanos’ children. A former favourite, in fact. You’re familiar with Thanos’ habit of picking orphans out of his massacres and turning them into weapons?”

Nova Prime nodded once, lips pressed into a thin line. Technician Ayenn had her attention fixed firmly on the screen in front of her, Saal noticed, but Corpsman Dey was watching Gamora’s image with a sickened expression, something like sympathy in the downturn of his mouth.

“She and her sister Nebula were working with Ronan on Thanos’ instructions when Ronan turned on him. That ended badly for all involved.”

“Including Xandar,” Nova Prime said, voice low with remembered grief.

“Including Xandar,” Saal agreed. He wasn’t back to full active duty yet, and the capital was still marked with signs of Ronan’s mad attack.

He shook off the memories and picked up the thread of his explanation. “Gamora’s widely considered one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy - and the deadliest assassin. When she was last detained, we detected numerous enhancements to her skeleton, senses and autonomic systems, and an advanced healing implant.”

A few vids began to play on the auxiliary projections. Were it not for the death she was so casually dealing, it would be a pleasure to watch Gamora at work. The freely spilling blood made it rather difficult to appreciate her grace, however, and the delighted, vicious grin she wore while killing was enough to give a man chills.

“Nebula disappeared after the mess with Ronan, but Gamora appears to have struck out on her own. We’re not sure if she took exception to getting caught up in Thanos’ actions against Ronan, or if she just decided she preferred picking her own targets. She’s subtler than the Destroyer and thus harder to track, but she’s suspected of involvement in at least a dozen murders since she broke away from Thanos. Some of them were for hire, some appear to have been personally motivated. Otherwise, she’s been keeping a fairly low profile until recently.”

The profile image changed again, now displaying something that bore a strong resemblance to a bipedal tree. It was over seven feet tall, with rough, woody skin, and rudimentary facial features.

“We’ve been calling it Groot,” Saal said, lifting a hand in a vaguely frustrated gesture, “since all it will say is ‘I am Groot’. It’s some manner of sentient plant species, though it tends to act more like a mindless thug. We’ve tentatively identified it as a Flora Colossus, though this one’s not as insular as they’re reported to be. Not only has it left their home planet, it doesn’t shy away from contact with other species. In fact, ‘shy’ is about the last thing it could be called.”

A multitude of smaller projections popped open, streaming vids of Groot brawling in a marketplace, bellowing in the middle of a prison riot, knocking security personnel aside with a sweep of its hand, driving sharpened branches through officers attempting to arrest it, and more besides. In addition to reshaping its appendages, it appeared able to extend and retract its limbs at will. It shrugged off gunfire, and largely ignored any other attempts to bring it down.

“We haven’t been able to communicate with it?” Nova Prime asked.

“We’ve tried. To be honest, it doesn’t show much interest in communication. It doesn’t seem to think much of, well, anyone. It’s dismissive of us at best, aggressively violent at worst. There are over thirty counts of assault on its record, and nineteen related counts of murder. What little communication we’ve been able to manage has come through its...well, ‘partner’ isn’t exactly the right word.”

The vid feeds froze, all but two going dark. Colour flashed onto the pair of still frames, highlighting a small figure crouched on Groot’s shoulder. The profile screen split, and a secondary image lit up. This one showed a diminutive brown-furred animal with a banded tail standing on its hind legs, staring blankly out at the camera.

“Subject 89P13,” Saal said into the startled silence, “of the Halfworld experiments. Apparently we missed one.”

Even Nova Prime’s composure was a bit shaken by the mention of that horror show of a laboratory, and Dey had that sick look on his face again as he stared at the altered lower life form.

“We were able to identify it from the surviving project records. They genetically augmented its cerebral cortex and gave it a bipedal cybernetic skeleton with opposable thumbs. We assume that it escaped in the raid, since we found no evidence that practical trials were being run with the subjects. In addition to being absurdly fond of heavy weaponry, 89P13’s proven itself to be remarkably adept with computers, explosives, and locks. We’ve yet to find a prison that will hold it. Added to multiple counts of escape from incarceration, it’s been charged with nearly 30 counts of theft and has added a few assault and murder charges to its record since taking up with Groot. It’s intelligent and communicative, but lacks the moral reasoning of true higher life forms.”

A pair of vid screens flashed to life. On one, 89P13 effortlessly handled a gun as large as itself, on the other, it was busily rewiring a computer console. The previously paused feeds resumed play, showing Groot and 89P13 cutting a swath through their opponents by means of brute force supplemented with gunfire.

“We haven’t been able to determine how they met, but Groot and 89P13 make a fairly good team. Groot is the brawn to 89P13’s brain, and 89P13 translates what ‘I am Groot,’ actually means on the rare occasions that Groot bothers to speak to anyone. They even seem to be somewhat fond of each other, inasmuch as either of them is capable of it.”

The auxiliary screens went dark and blinked out as a new criminal activity report came up on the primary projection.

Nova Prime arched an eyebrow. “Saving the best for last?”

“For a given definition of best,” Saal returned.

“Peter Jason Quill,” he named the rotating image of the man on the screen. “Though he’s recently gained a reputation for himself as ‘Star-Lord’.”

Dey barely smothered a noise that might have been laughter.

“As ridiculous as it sounds, the name is enough to scare some of our antsier contacts in the unpatrolled sectors. Quill is Terran, abducted from the planet by Ravagers as a child. No one knows what they were doing there, or why they took him, but they evidently decided to keep him. He stayed with them until he was old enough to earn his freedom, and then headed out on his own. No known enhancements beyond an implanted translator. Until recently, he’d limited his activities to theft and fraud, but he seems to have set his sights higher these days. And collected a group of fellow criminals to make it happen.”

Three screens flickered to life, showing Quill talking the Destroyer into lowering his knife, tossing an arm around Gamora’s shoulders and ignoring her sideways glare, shooting his way out of a prison next to Groot and 89P13. A fourth, larger window opened, playing a grainy security feed of the five of them walking down the streets of Werrian IV. There to make contact with Quill’s favourite fence, no doubt.

“So they’re working together.” Nova Prime was frowning at the projection. “How the _hell_ did that happen?”

“For a few months now,” Saal confirmed. “We’re not sure exactly how it happened, but evidence points to Quill being responsible for it. They haven’t left us with much to examine, but survivors’ reports say that he’s in charge. And he’s definitely the one that brought them together. Credit where credit is due, the man is indecently charismatic.”

“He’d have to be, to get this group to listen to him.” Nova Prime sighed and leaned forward to rest her hands on the console. “All right. Play the vid.”

A new projection opened above the console, quickly eclipsing the other screens as they faded out. Two uniformed Nova corpsmen stood at armed guard to either side of the door to a central monitoring room. Two more corpsmen sat in front of a rotating field of security projections, trading low-voiced conversation as they paged through the incoming information. The vid had all the characteristics of a Nova Corps internal security feed, including a scrolling code that demanded top secret credentials to view it.

“It appears to be a recording from the internal security systems of the ultra-secure facility on the moon of Fehirran II. Every test we’ve run indicates it’s authentic. We’ve dispatched a squad for first hand verification, but it will take some time for them to reach the site.”

Saal hesitated, eyeing the grim set to Nova Prime’s jaw. More than ever, he found himself hoping this was just a clever prank of Quill’s. He tipped a quick nod to Technician Ayenn.

Recorded alarms began blaring, and on screen the four men snapped into alertness.

“Security breach!” reported one of the agents at the console, jabbing frantically at his screens.

“Docking bay’s blown wide open,” added the other. “Wait - how did they - they’re already inside!”

“What’s going on?” demanded one of the guards, resettling his weapon in his hands.

“I don’t know! Everything was reading clear until just a second ago!”

“Get the internal defenses online!”

“I can’t! Nothing’s responding!”

“Attention, all personnel: Multi-level security breach,” the other agent was calling into the comms. “Repeat, multi-level security breach. Internal systems compromised. Treat any intruders as hostile. Lethal force is authorized.”

“We have contact!” came from the comm system, backed by the sound of gunfire and shouting. “They’re shaking off everything we throw at them. Get us locked down or we’re going to lose the facility!”

Similar reports were coming in from two other points of entry, and the two guards left the door to crowd against the chairs of the corpsmen at the consoles.

“Show us what’s going on out there.”

One of the corpsmen shook his head, fingers tapping hasty commands to the computer. “We’re trying - they’ve disrupted the whole system.”

The projections in front of them blurred and wavered. Images of clear, empty corridors fuzzed into grainy snapshots of bloody walls and broken corpses.

“Find them! We need to know-”

Four heads snapped around at the sound of tearing metal, but none of them could react fast enough to prevent what followed.

The door to the monitoring room was wrenched open with an echoing bellow. The guards brought their weapons around but were impaled by the thick branches that lashed into the room before they could fire. Quill sauntered into the room, ignoring the twitching guards choking around the branches speared through their chests, and waved a cheery greeting to the two corpsmen sitting frozen in their seats.

“Hey there, guys. We’re just here to pick something up. You want to help us find it so we can wrap this up?”

One of the corpsmen drew himself up in furious defiance. “We won’t help you get away with this.”

“Okay.” Quill shrugged, a disarmingly friendly smile spreading across his face. “Too bad.”

And then he lifted his pistol and calmly shot the corpsman dead.

“Changed your mind about helping?” he asked the sole remaining corpsman.

She lifted her chin. “Why? You’re going to kill me anyway. If I have to die, I think I’d rather inconvenience you as much as possible on my way out.”

Quill grinned at her. “I can respect that.”

The worst part was how she _smiled back at him_ before convulsing as the crackling discharge of his weapon struck her, then slumped lifelessly in her chair.

“Hey Rocky,” Quill called over his shoulder. “You want to get in here and crack their vault for me?”

89P13 darted into view, scampering down the length of one of Groot’s extended branches on all fours. It paused when it reached the guard’s corpse, then gathered itself and leapt to the top of the closest corpsman’s chair, jumping from there onto the bank of consoles.

“Give me a few minutes,” it said, displays already steadying and returning to normal function under its hands.

“Take your time,” Quill said, with a casual flip of his hand. “Groot will go make sure there isn’t anyone left to get any bright ideas about interrupting, right?”

There was a loud grumble from outside the camera’s range, and the branches withdrew with a harsh rustle. Heavy footsteps faded away as Quill leaned on the back of one of the chairs and watched 89P13 take control of the facility’s most secure systems.

89P13 sat back on its haunches, and handed Quill a data card. “It’s there. Vault’s unlocked.”

“Awesome!” Quill snatched up the card, dropping a brief pat on 89P13’s head. “You hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

89P13 sat disconcertingly still as it waited, barely blinking as the minutes passed. On the displays in front of it, the systematic slaughter of the facility’s few remaining guards continued. The Destroyer, Gamora, and Groot were clearly visible, and clearly enjoying themselves.

Quill returned shortly thereafter, flushed and triumphant, with a small silver ball clutched tight in his fist. “Got it!”

“Excellent. Does that mean we can go now?” Gamora asked, leaning casually in the doorway. “There isn’t anyone left and Drax and Groot are getting bored.”

“I’d call that time to go, yeah.” Quill waved 89P13 ahead. “Go make sure they leave the place standing until we’re out, would you?”

89P13 nodded once, then jumped to the floor and trotted out into the hallway, vanishing with a flick of its ringed tail.

“Good job out there,” Quill said to Gamora as he walked to the doorway, “but you’ve got a little something…” He reached out and stroked a thumb across her cheekbone, smearing the fine spray of blood spattered on her face.

“Hands to yourself, _Star Lord_. Or I will remove them for you,” she said, jabbing an elbow into his stomach.

He backed off a step, laughing as he ostentatiously raised his hands. She rolled her eyes at him, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she walked away.

Quill paused in the doorway, idly tossing the ball up and down before closing his hand around it again. He turned to look directly into the camera and smiled, raising one hand in mock salute. “Be seeing you, Nova Prime.”

The screen went black as the vid ended.

Nova Prime took a deep breath, hands clenched on the console, before she straightened. “Well, I suppose he wasn’t wrong about that. Corpsman Dey, Quill sent this vid directly to you?”

Dey started at being addressed so abruptly, swallowing hard before responding. “He did, Nova Prime.”

“Do you have any idea why?”

“I - I’m not sure - I think because I arrested him a couple of times, back when he first started acting independently.” Dey shrugged uncomfortably. “He’d remember me - I kept a few of the other prisoners from harassing him.”

Saal couldn’t help but think they’d all have been better off if Dey had just let the other criminals kill Quill before he became everyone’s problem. “I suppose sending the vid directly to one of the Nova Corps adds a personal touch.”

“Let’s hope that’s as personal as it gets,” Nova Prime said.

“Ah, Nova Prime?” Dey asked, squaring his shoulders when she turned to look at him. “What Quill stole - how dangerous-?”

She shook her head sharply. “The artifact is far too powerful for him to control. He’ll destroy himself before he can hurt anyone else.”

He bowed his head in quick acknowledgement, unable to keep his expression entirely clear of unease.

“In the meantime, put out an alert for Quill and all of his accomplices. I want to know immediately if any of them are spotted.”

“Yes, ma’am. Are they to be detained?” Saal asked, already keying in the orders.

His fingers stuttered to a halt at her unexpected answer.

“No. Personnel are to approach _only_ if it’s immediately necessary to prevent civilian casualties.”

Nova Prime was frightened, Saal realized. He swallowed his reaction, forcing his response to its usual steadiness. “Yes, ma’am.”

Yes, he decided as she strode away, straight-backed and determined, it would have been much better for everyone if someone had killed Quill long before today.

He wasn’t surprised when Corpsman Dey’s request for leave crossed his desk later that same day. He hesitated only briefly before approving it, privately wishing the man well on his flight from Xandar and hoping Quill’s message to Dey hadn’t been the warning it seemed.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Title taken (out of context) from _Hamlet_ : "One may smile, and smile, and be a villain."


End file.
